"What the hell?" Mike breathed, finding his voice a split second before his partner. Neither could take their eyes off the disturbing sight before them.

Bernie lifted his finger and moved it to the other eyelid.

"They're both gone?" Steve asked quietly before the second empty socket was revealed.

"Umh-humh," the coroner nodded softly, "and with amazing deft and precision. I almost want to say by a professional."

Steve's eyes snapped up. "A professional? You mean like a doctor?"

"I mean like an ophthalmologist. I'm a doctor and I couldn't take an eyeball out with that kind of accuracy. That takes training, skill and practice."

"An ophthalmologist?" Mike echoed, finally looking away. He stared at Bernie for a couple of seconds before turning to his partner. "Well, I suppose that narrows our suspect list down substantially, wouldn't you think?"

"How many ophthalmologists are there in San Francisco, do you guess?" Steve mused, not really sure if he was being facetious or not.

"And in Oakland, Sausalito, Daly City, Redmond, Vallejo, Palo Alto…" Mike began pedantically.

"And there's veterinarians as well," Bernie offered almost apologetically. "They remove eyeballs too."

"All right, all right," Steve cut him off with a roll of his eyes and shake of his head as Mike chuckled softly and Bernie suppressed a brief smile. Changing the subject, he gestured at the gurney without actually looking in that direction. "So, ah… why…?"

"You mean why take the eyes?" the coroner completed the unspoken question. When the young inspector nodded, he snorted. "That's your department. I'm just here to tell you what I've found."

"So what else have you found… or not found…?" Mike asked thinly, continuing to be bothered by the empty sockets staring up at the ceiling.

"Well, it's still preliminary," Bernie began as he repositioned himself to the far side of the steel autopsy table. "I can pin her age down a little more. She's older than I first thought, so I'd say between 25 and 35. She's had at least one child. She's not Caucasian. I'd say hispanic, maybe Italian or Greek even. There's evidence of intercourse, naturally, but I can't tell you if it was consensual or not. There is vaginal bruising but it's not fresh." He picked the edge of the sheet up and freed her arm, holding it so they could see the inside of her elbow. "She was a user. A couple of these," he nodded at the small dark spots that dotted the olive skin, "are very fresh."

He repositioned his hands on her arm and raised her forearm. There were marks around her wrist that looked like rope burns; they were deep in places, the skin rubbed raw. "She was restrained, and roughly from the looks of it. I'd say the rope the killer used was natural fibre, probably hemp, if that helps. These marks are on both wrists. There are similar striations on her ankles but her stockings seemed to take the brunt of it."

"She put up a fight," Mike muttered softy.

Bernie set the arm almost gently back on the table and lifted the sheet to expose her upper arm and shoulder.

"Are those fresh?" Steve asked, leaning closer and pointing at barely visible finger-sized lines on the skin just below the shoulder.

Bernie nodded. "Yep. Bruises can sometimes take hours or even days to appear post mortem. So I think these were made just a couple of hours before she died. And I'm pretty sure she wasn't killed in that alley."

"Yeah, we're thinking that too," Mike muttered as Steve straightened up and glanced at him. "She was dumped. Listen, ah, we're going to need a good picture of her to show around tonight. Ah, I guess with the eyes closed…?"

Bernie nodded. "I'll get right on that and send the photo up when it's done.

Mike looked at the coroner and nodded his thanks. "Anything else?"

Bernie covered the body again. "Her prints have been sent upstairs already, and I've got a couple of my assistants going over her clothes with a fine-toothed comb, literally. I'll let you know if they find anything but don't hold your breath. The mud and detritus in that alley was all over everything. I've still got some work to do myself. I think I detected a trace of chloroform around her mouth but I've got to do some tests to confirm it.

"The cause of death was most likely the shot to the back of the head, pending the toxicological results. I haven't open the cranium yet, I thought you guys might like to see what I found right away."

The lieutenant glanced up and nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"There's no exit wound so chances the bullet's still in there so I'll get it to Ballistics as soon as I can. And I really want to study the skill that went into the enucleation."

Mike stared at him blankly, his mouth slightly open. "E-what?" he asked after a long silent beat.

Bernie smiled. "Enucleation. It means to -"

"Remove an eyeball. Yeah, I made the connection." The lieutenant nodded to himself as he started to turn away. He stopped and looked back. "Thanks, Bernie… I think…" He gathered Steve with a look. "Come on, buddy boy, we have a couple of eyeballs to find."

# # # # #

"No, I'm pretty sure Dave would have said something if his vic's eyes were missing. All he said was that there were some unusual cuts around the eyes. I'm sure Bernie would've looked - and told us. Besides, he did say this was his first."

Mike was leaning against the back of the elevator, his hands in his pockets and his stare far away. Steve was pacing the small car, his fists on his hips. He stopped and stared at his partner. "So, what? You're thinking that Dave's vic was a test run?"

Mike looked up and tilted his head with a soft snort and a shrug. "You got a better idea?"

Steve shook his head with a smile and a chuckle. "No, but I can hear the gears grinding from here. Okay, I'll get the file from Dave and see if anything matches."

With a soft chime, the car started to slow and Mike pushed himself away from the wall.

"So what are you going to do?" his partner asked with a grin.

The doors opened and Mike stepped out, Steve on his heels. "Me? I'm gonna start making a list of all the ophthalmologists and veterinarians that we're going to need checked out. This could take weeks." He chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder. "I sure hope you don't have a date tonight 'cause I have a feeling we're not gonna make it home anytime soon."

# # # # #

Mike pushed the Homicide door open and stopped abruptly, his hand still on the knob. Steve, who had been following with his head down, ran into his back. "What the hell…?" he heard the older man whisper for the second time that day.

The quiet bullpen they had left not too long ago was now noisy and bustling. Almost every Homicide detective was now present, and they recognized several sergeants and inspectors from Robbery and a couple from Vice.

Frowning in confusion, Mike stepped slowly into the room, his eyes immediately falling on Captain Olsen, who was leaning up against Steve's desk, his arms crossed, silently surveying the ordered chaos in front of him.

Mike strode up to the captain while Steve, mirroring his partner's confusion, circled behind his desk and slipped off his jacket.

"Rudy, what the hell's going on?"

The older man raised both hands as he pushed himself up. "Now just calm down, Mike. I'm just borrowing your guys for awhile. You told me yourself that things have been quiet the past couple of days and Robbery needs a hand so…" He gestured at the hubbub in front of them.

"Why does Robbery need a hand all of a sudden?"

"The bank robberies," Steve offered from behind them and they both turned in his direction, Mike with a frown, Olsen with a pleased grin.

"He's right. The bank robberies. You heard about them?" the captain asked the lieutenant with a smile that came dangerously close to a smirk.

"Yes, I heard about them," Mike snapped, "but nobody's been killed, so it hasn't been any of my business."

"Well, that's true," Olsen conceded, "but they've stepped up the pace of their… routine. They were robbing banks once every two weeks, but as of this morning, they shortened their interval time to three days. And they've hit banks all over town, never in the same area twice. We've gotta get a handle on this, and fast."

"So how do you know it's the same gang?" Steve inquired and both sets of older eyes snapped in his direction again. With an almost imperceptible nod, Mike's focus returned to the captain with proud expectancy.

Olsen looked quickly back and forth between the partners, as if slightly thrown, and perturbed, about the question, which made Mike's slight smile grow marginally larger. "Well, we don't - for sure. That's why we need the extra manpower. If it is them, then it's only a matter of time till someone gets hurt or killed so…?" He gestured at the bullpen again before turning his most beatific smile on the man in charge of Homicide. "Do you have any objections if I use your squad's talent and expertise to give Robbery a hand?"

Mike pursed his lips, surveying the room, noting his own sergeants and inspectors in consultation with their Robbery counterparts, then turned to the captain. "No, I guess not." He raised his right index finger quickly, not quite in Olsen's face. "But the second we get a case, they come back to me, right?"

Olsen smiled. "Of course, of course. Thank you, Mike."

"You're welcome," the lieutenant mumbled, still not entirely copacetic with the idea but having no bona fide reason to object.

"I, ah, I heard you guys picked up a case this morning. A dead hooker. Anything I should know about?"

When Mike didn't respond immediately, staring once again at the bustling scene in front of him, Steve cleared his throat softly. "Well, ah, her eyes were removed…"

Olsen's head spun in his direction. "What?"

"It's called a enucleation," Mike offered matter-of-factly as he passed by the captain on the way to his office.

"A what?" Olsen turned to watch him go, receiving no response. Mike stepped into the office and closed the door.

"An enucleation," Steve responded. "It's the fancy term for removing an eyeball… or in this case, both eyeballs."

"Both eyeballs? Why the hell would someone do that?"

Steve smiled wryly. "Well, when we find out, we'll let you know."

The captain stared at him blankly for a long beat then nodded. "Okay…. Well, ah, I better get back upstairs." He glanced nervously over his shoulder towards Mike's office where the lieutenant was now sitting at the desk, on the phone. "I'll, ah, I'll see you later." He scuttled out of the room with another fleeting backward glance.

Steve watched him go then turned to look towards the inner office. He sighed. It was going to be a very busy and very interesting several days, he thought, as he spotted Grabowski across the room, deep in conversation with his Robbery counterpart. And for the time being, it seemed, he and Mike were going to be on their own.